


Of Emotions and Dead Lands

by Suneku



Category: Guild Wars
Genre: Feelings, Fluff, M/M, Old work, may add to it later on??, the commander makes everything better, trahearne's angsty per usual, written pre-HoT so therefor set in Orr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:14:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6558973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suneku/pseuds/Suneku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trahearne delves into his thoughts before sleeping.  Sadly, no sleep ever comes from reminiscing upon thoughts of loneliness.  The ever-spontaneous commander pays the scholar a visit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Of Emotions and Dead Lands

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on my tumblr, trahearnia. This is old and gross; but hey, I decided to post it anyways. Reviews are much welcomed!

The Pact, like many other things in Trahearne's life, was a seemingly intangible goal that only a dreamer like himself could ever think possible.  It was a series of wishful thinking, he had thought originally.  Something to give the scholar purpose, to reach his potential, and to become what the Pale Tree had wanted him to be; nothing more.  Just like Orr, Trahearne had believed it a task near impossible to achieve.  On the contrary, it was also just like Orr in the sense that it was a goal that he refused to give up on.  Countless sleepless nights,  wracking his mind over different strategies and plans were a regular occurrence ever since he embarked on his first Wyld Hunt.  There were times when Trahearne felt he was incapable of sleep. 

 

This was one of those times. 

 

Yet, the scholar couldn't even pretend that the thinking he was doing in lieu of sleeping was even anywhere near productive.  It was silly self-reflection that would get him nowhere, he berated himself.  They were just thoughts that would weigh him down.  Nonetheless, Trahearne soon found himself wandering into his thoughts once again.  What a hopeless case he was. 

 

Trahearne wouldn't like to admit it, but there were several times when he did truly believe his goal unreachable.  Many a night, he would visit the Mother Tree and ask for her wisdom.  For a Firstborn, he needed the constant guidance of a sapling, he would tell her, ashamed.  But the Mother Tree would just shake her head, and assure him that someone with such a Hunt ought to be lost somehow.  Then, she would give some comforting piece of advice that would thwart his worries and troubles for then, at least for a couple of hours.  Trahearne would sit there a while, gazing out into the branches of the Grove, feeling the ever-present warmth that almost all Sylvari would feel in their home. 

 

Right now, he was not even close to the Grove.  He felt like a small child who had wandered off from their parent in a large crowd.  Frightened, confused, and alone.  Even in the company of his own kind he felt alone; if anything, even more so.  That same lost feeling he experienced radiated off of every fellow Sylvari he came into contact with.  No comfort could be given in this barren wasteland.  

 

Well, save for one person. 

 

The commander, his right hand, closest ally, and first and foremost friend, always offered the kindest of words and wisest of advice when he needed it.  Despite being a human, his friend always brought forth empathy when it came to Trahearne's Sylvan-dilemmas.  Even if the commander was in an unfavorable mood, if Trahearne started to feel lonely, or lost, he would coo to him in a soft voice, and offer a shoulder to cry on.  It was almost like the commander was a condensed version of the Pale Tree, yet squishier... and, well, far more attractive.  Despite being made of human flesh, the man seemed to glow and brighten the room when he entered.  Trahearne often thought his vibrant orange glow seemed dim in comparison to the commander.  His ally's eyes were attentive and quick, his fingers nimble, his body lithe.  He was simply beautiful, and there was no denying that. 

 

At first, these thoughts of his second-in-command were avoidable.  Trahearne would push them to the side as a silly fantasy and focus on his work.  But after achieving so much together, expressing their thoughts and ideas with one another, and experiencing the joy of comradery, he couldn't neglect his silly fantasies anymore.  Every glimpse he caught of the commander stole his breath.  Those smiles of his could stop his heart, too.  

 

Trahearne often felt guilty about having the commander at his side.  The more he reflected on it, the more he realized how much the commander was thrown into the situation, rather than acting upon his own free will.  The marshal practically refused to let him return to his regular life after assembling the Pact, claiming that he belonged next to him, as if he were some sort of faithful dog.  The thought of him trapping the commander in such a position led him to confront his friend about it one day.  When asked of how he felt about his current role, the commander only laughed, gave him one of those heart-stopping smiles, and said simply, "I wouldn't want it to be any other way." 

 

Abruptly, there was a knock at the door, pulling him from his thoughts. 

 

"Trahearne!  We have an emergency,"  the voice, he recognized to belong to the commander, spoke. "You have to come with me, right now!"  A few frantic pounds on the door sounded loudly in the otherwise quiet room. 

 

"I'll be ready as soon as I can, commander.  Prepare the needed troops and supplies," Trahearne called out, towards the door.  He scrambled to find his equipment, as it was splayed out in various locations across the room.  

 

"That won't be necessary, it's just a two-man job.  But, it's still important," the voice called from the opposite side of the door. 

 

Confused, but compliant, Trahearne gathered his gear and opened the door, only to see a rather smug-looking, smirking commander awaiting him.  Before he could speak, his wrist was seized and he was being led out of the camp.  He couldn't see the commander's facial expression from where he was standing, but he was almost certain he was still grinning like an idiot. 

 

"Where are we going?  Is everyone okay?  Why are you smirking like that?"  Trahearne was a more-silenty-study, less-ask-a-million-questions, type of scholar, but his curiosity was running rampant as he continued to be led out into the all-too well recognizable murky, dead land that they faced every day.  The commander spoke not a word the whole time they walked, only looking back at his "superior" every so often to assure he hadn't been picked off or gotten eaten by some abomination.   

 

Soon, they reached a pathway that was too dark to see beyond. 

 

"So, I found this thing-" the commander started. 

 

" _What_ kind of thing?" Trahearne responded, somewhat miffed now that he had been dragged out in the middle of the night and forced to trudge through murk and slime. 

 

"...If you would let me finish.  It's a good thing, Mr. Grumpy.  I think you'll like it."  The sudden use of the nickname made him want to feel like his pride was damaged, but in reality only gave him a sense of domesticity, that was rather nice. 

 

The commander regained his hold on Trahearne's wrist, and led him through the passageway.  The marshal noted the markers along the path, likely left by the commander to navigate his way through a second time.  When they reached the end of the path, they were standing in a cave, and Trahearne almost couldn't believe his eyes. 

 

Everything was so _lush_ and _green._ Trees and ferns to rival Caledon lined the walls of the cave.  Moss with sprouting plants and mushrooms covered the floor.  A waterfall cascaded down the right side of the cave, with drinkable-looking pristine water.  Most notably, however, was the _uncontaminated, pure_ statue of Lyssa that resided next to the waterfall.  An actual Orr relic of that size, sitting in front of him, untouched by the dragon's influence.  He stared at his surroundings in disbelief, and his first reaction was to believe that this was a trap set by Zhaitan. 

 

"Commander, I—are you seeing this?  This is _incredible!_   Such a lively place, this deep into Orr!  Do you know what this could mean?  I mean,  assuming this isn't just some ploy—all the opportunities and resources!  The _knowledge!_ I can't actually believe I--" before his sentence could be finished, the commander moved his hand so that his fingers intertwined with the marshal's.  When Trahearne's brain recognized the touch, he glanced over to his friend in disbelief.  The commander had his usual warm smile—but something new in his eyes.  He was watching Trahearne with what he would like to call admiration.  Or if he were really being wishful, something more, something deeper. 

 

"Like I said, I thought you'd like it." 

 

 

 

* * *

 


End file.
